


Snowball Fight

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3736996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a drabble dare on Tumblr: Imagine getting into a snowball fight with Sam Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowball Fight

Your jeans cling to your legs as you run through the snow, it's knee deep and heavy, hard to maneuver through. With chattering teeth, you push on, hearing the long-legged hunter gain on you.

"Why you runnin'? Afraid I'll beat you?" His voice, even though husky, is light and full of laughter.

A snowball hits a tree, right where your shoulder would be if you were six inches to your left. You hide behind said tree and gasp at the cold air. "You said you wanted a good old fashioned snowball fight. What's a fight without a little chase?"

Turning your head to take a peek around the tree, you spy a small creek and get a wicked idea. Despite the fact your hands are burning from the last snowball you launched over your shoulder, you grab another handful and quickly shape it.

"Come on, this is more than just a little chase. It's not really fair to you."

You snort in argument. "How is it not fair?"

"I'm so much better at this."

You duck just as a snowball speeds through the air and lands in the creek you had just stepped into. Sam steps around the tree all cocky and walking with that swagger you love. His mouth falls open as you dunk your snowball into the frigid water.

He holds out his bare hands, red and probably stinging from handling the snow, just like yours. "Don't you dare throw that snowba-."

It hits him square in the chin and you give a shriek of surprise. You hadn't intended on hitting him there. Upper chest, shoulder maybe, but not his face.

"Goddammit!" Birds that had taken refuge from last night's snow storm flee at the booming voice of Sam.

He doesn't take the time to wipe away the cold slush as it drips down his neck before he takes off after you with a low throated growl.

You try to outrun him, but his legs are so much longer than yours and they eat up the distance like it's nothing. He grabs you by the waist and lifts you off the ground, turning you around at the same time. Before you can even think about struggling, Sam buries his wet face in your neck.

Wet hair slaps against your face as he continues to nestle into the warm confines of your coat-protected neck. "STOP IT!"

"I told you it wasn't fair to you." His words are muffled by your skin.

You stop struggling because let's face it, it's no use. "How do you know I don't have something else up my sleeve?"

He stiffens, fingers dig into your lower back. "You wouldn't."

What Sam didn't see before he came around the tree was you pocketing a handful of snow. With his face buried in your neck, he can't see you reach into your pocket and pull out your weapon. Not waiting any longer, you shove it down the collar of his shirt.

His arms are no longer holding you off the ground as he cries out, reaching back to untuck his undershirt to get the snow out. You use that to your advantage and run back toward the motel across the street, fueled by the shout of a promise of making you pay.


End file.
